Healing is a hole in my soul
by Jim Fitzgibbon
I have a hole in my soul.
This hole is how I experience a trauma that happened to me.
When triggered I trip over my “shoulds”
and into my soul-hole I fall,
my shoulders stiffening, hurts.
Some laughed as if mocking my terror,
unknowing the potential for misunderstanding,
Grieving me, their ‘fallen’ comrade as they were
suffering crippling traumatic shock.
I feared the hole in my soul would swallow more than me
so I used to push away my beloved community,
as if by doing so, I could avoid shame
of not being able to keep them safer and protect them from trauma.
Unaware, mortified, I was actually choosing trauma over collective soul,
We obsessed, as if I the hostage given away, instead of hosting.
Embodying distance and mortification,
Our unspoken relationship turned into unspeakable,
Until, unnoticed by me at first, desperate now,
From earthy others I allowed into my soul-hole,
elastic life-lines of their love,
quicker than I could flee, or snap.
Courageously they persistently fed through the freeze,
Boldly bridging right across the hole in my soul.
until I met their reach, in mutual respect,
movingly, knowingly beyond all previously known territory,
Thankfully, I gradually became, real again, velveteenly*.
which began as a single thread
is now many and woven into a trampoline-like,
ground of murmurating authenticity,
landscape looks so unlike the brittleness of no-man’s-land.
This soul-hole is a thread-like material
I hold my threads and weave them as healing spirit,
So I can reach as a life-line
towards someone else’s need
welcoming them home in their turn
to collective soul, velveteenly.
*Reference to Williams, M. (1922). The velveteen rabbit. New York: G.H Doran Co.